


Gonna Stand Here in the Ache

by WrongRemedy



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Bladder Control, Established Relationship, Kink Discovery, M/M, Omorashi, Seriously I am incredibly sorry for this, The Author Regrets Everything, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrongRemedy/pseuds/WrongRemedy
Summary: When it first begins, it isn't a thing. Or, well. Itisa thing; but it's only a thing that happens incidentally, not a thing that Roger gets off on.Or, the one where Roger doesn't get off on holding his piss, until he does, and then he doesn't tell Brian about it, until he does, and then he doesn't get off on pissing himself....until he does.





	Gonna Stand Here in the Ache

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know what to say except I'm sorry. I don't even have a piss kink, but there are a couple different fics in this fandom already about Roger having one and for some reason I'm very into that and so here this is. Trust me, I'm as horrified as you are.
> 
> I entirely and completely and 100% blame [owenwilsonvevo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owenwilsonvevo/pseuds/owenwilsonvevo) for this.
> 
> Title from 'Until the Levee' by Joy Williams. Pun only slightly intended.

When it first begins, it isn't a thing. Or, well. It _is_ a thing; but it's only a thing that happens incidentally, not a thing that Roger gets off on.

It starts in his last semester at uni. He's busy all day, from sun-up to sundown, bustling from classes to the market stall, from band rehearsals to other people's gigs, and all in all he just barely seems to have the time to even breathe properly, let alone to take a piss. So he finds himself holding it throughout the day; staunchly ignoring the insistence of his bladder, usually until late evening when he's finally able to excuse himself to the pub bathroom without anyone missing him for a few minutes.

But it isn't a thing at that point, it's just a consequence of an overly-busy schedule. It isn't until after he's finished school, when the band has become the forefront of all their attention and he doesn't have to spend every waking moment running from one place to the next that he starts to realize there may be something more to it than he's noticed before.

Suddenly instead of relegating the pangs in his abdomen to the back of his mind and forcing himself to ignore them so he can get on with the rest of his day, Roger is finding himself noticing and focusing on the different ways his body feels when he chooses not to relieve himself for hours on end. The way it pulses first thing in the morning when he wakes up, squeezing his thighs together and forming a ring around his dick with his hand to stave off the feeling of needing to go. With those times, he always has to head for the loo and give in eventually – unable to make it through the whole day with whatever he's stored up overnight – but when he has the time he finds himself wanting to stay in bed for much longer than necessary, just seeing how long he can keep himself there before a few drops of piss wet his boxers or soak through to his sheets before he hauls himself out of bed and heads for the toilet.

Outside of morning necessities, though, he'll hold it for as long as he can throughout the whole rest of the day. The slight tickle that comes after a couple of hours of drinking water, the dull ache that blooms if he ignores it for a while longer, the insistent pressure that eventually builds to the point where it's nearly all he can think of. Now that he doesn't have a busy schedule to distract him from it all, Roger finds that he enjoys acknowledging it, dwelling on it, fighting with himself about it all while nobody else around him knows what he's doing.

The desperation he builds up during the day is good on it's own, and it's rivaled, if not equaled, by the relief that comes later. Before all this started, Roger could never have imagined that the simple act of taking a leak could feel so good that it makes him want to moan out loud, but now it's a sensation he's intimately familiar with. Nine times out of ten he has to go into a stall in the public restrooms instead of just stopping at a urinal, because once he's eased his cock out of his tight jeans and finally let go all that he's been holding back all day, he's hard in his hand by the time he's finished. He'll stand in a dingy pub bathroom with one hand on the wall and the other around his still-dripping cock, and he only has to stroke himself about three times before his legs are shaking and he cums hard enough that his whole body feels drained. He emerges with his limbs loose and sated, his mind sharp and clear, and drinks with the guys until he's fogged over again, and then he does it all over the next day because this is his life now.

Sure, he figures, it's a bit weird. Probably not something the average person does – putting this much thought into or getting this much enjoyment out of just not letting themselves use the loo when they need it – but it's not as though he's hurting anybody. And if the rest of the band notices that Roger never seems to need to stop off to the bathroom quite as often as the rest of them, they don't mention it, so he just lets himself have his odd little quirk without worrying too much about it. That is, until he and Brian become an item.

When they first get together, Roger's careful about it. He scales back on the games he likes to play with himself, doesn't indulge as often when Brian's around him. If he wakes up in the morning wrapped around Brian's body he'll extract himself with a kiss and murmur that he'll be right back and go take a preventative piss before crawling back into bed. If he's hanging around with Brian during the day and finds himself needing to go, he won't hold it as long as he normally would, won't tempt fate and the chance that Brian might notice now that he's more attuned to Roger's actions. It's not as though he's ashamed, per se. It's just that he isn't sure how he'd explain something like that to Brian if he asked, and he's even less sure that Brian wouldn't find the whole thing too strange to deal with and break up with him, and so he decides it's just easier to try and make sure that Brian doesn't find out.

After a while, though, Roger gets comfortable. He's been with Brian long enough that they've both learned to let their guards down around each other, and it eventually makes him complacent enough that he starts to ease back into his old habits. Lounging around in bed with his legs tensed as he tries to will himself to hold it for just a while longer. Sitting right next to Brian on the couch while his bladder aches for hours and he ignores it until the last possible second. He thinks, for the longest time, that he's doing a good enough job at acting normal throughout it all that Brian still hasn't picked up on anything strange, but really, he should know better than to doubt Brian's observational skills. His boyfriend is a scientist first and foremost, and an empath on top of that. If there's anything he's good at, it's collecting data and analyzing it correctly, even when that data comes in the form of human behavior. Really, it's a miracle that Roger is able to delude himself for as long as he does before Brian finally calls him out.

It happens in the morning; on a slow, lazy day when neither of them have anywhere to be until after dinnertime that evening when they're supposed to meet Freddie and John to go over some ideas for the band. Roger wakes up laying on his side, wearing nothing but his underwear, pressed against Brian's body like his life depends on it. Brian, too, is sleeping in nothing but his shorts, laid out on his back, still breathing steady and soft with sleep. Roger spends a while just resting his head on Brian's chest and listening to his heartbeat, feeling warm and content right where he is. Soon enough, though, he feels the tell-tale pressure building, and takes the risk of squirming a bit, letting his muscles contract as he shifts his hips just ever so slightly away from Brian's side, just in case. He stays tensed that way for a few long moments, concentrating so hard on the ache that he doesn't notice that Brian has woken up until one of his hands settles against Roger's hip, just above the waistband of his boxers, and Brian's voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Brian asks, his voice a low, sleepy murmur. Roger feels like a deer caught in headlights at the question even as his body has its normal reaction to Brian's deep, soft morning voice.

“Do what?” Roger asks, feigning ignorance. Maybe if he plays dumb, Brian will have pity and decide not to humiliate him.

“Wait until you're on the verge of wetting yourself to go to the bathroom,” Brian says, and yeah, that's it, Roger's got no other choice than to throw himself out the nearest window. At least he's lived a good life.

“I-” he starts, but then he doesn't know what else to say, because this is exactly what he'd been trying to avoid all this time. After a long moment of silence that feels like an eternity wherein Roger does nothing other than bury his face into Brian's chest to avoid answering, Brian rolls onto his side, carefully pushing Roger onto his back on the bed in the process. Brian props himself up on one arm, leaving the other draped delicately across Roger's stomach, and stares down at him with his lips slightly parted and his eyes curious and calculating. His expression is remarkably similar to the one he wears when he's reading the newest astronomy articles or working out a new riff on his guitar, and Roger wants to hide his eyes again but knows that it won't help in the slightest. He lies there and lets himself be studied, breathing a little shallowly and still, despite it all, keenly aware of the fact that he hasn't gone for a piss yet.

“You like it,” Brian says, and it isn't a question. He says it as though it's the first part of an answer to a word puzzle, and Roger almost feels ill, but he nods slowly anyway, biting his lip worriedly as he catches Brian's dark eyes.

“Yeah,” Roger whispers, unable to read the look on Brian's face. “Yeah, I like it.”

He expects Brian to roll away from him then; to pull his arm away from Roger's body and put some distance between them as he tries to come to grips with the fact that his boyfriend is even more of a freak than he bargained for. But Brian stays where he is, still staring at Roger with that same unreadable expression.

“If you're willing to tell me,” Brian starts, then hesitates for a second, licking his lips before he continues. “What do you like about it, exactly? What is it that you do? I want to understand.”

Roger's breath catches in his throat and he spends a few minutes chewing nervously at his bottom lip, trying to work out how the hell he's going to explain any of this. Brian shocks him out of his contemplation by leaning forward and kissing him deeply, nipping at Roger's lip to stop him doing it to himself. When Brian pulls away, Roger feels a little stunned, but Brian is still looking at him expectantly, so he takes a deep breath and just launches into it, explaining how it all started and how he'd tried to stop once they got together. Brian listens patiently through it all, expression neutral but nodding encouragingly whenever Roger stumbles.

“I don't know,” Roger says, finally, nearing the end of the explanation. “I like the desperation, and I like the relief. It's an odd thing to say but...it just feels good. I- I hadn't ever planned to tell you, obviously. Sorry I wasn't as subtle about it as I could have been.” Roger chuckles nervously, and Brian's brow furrows.

“There's no need to apologize, Rog,” Brian says, and it's clear from his tone that he thinks the very notion of Roger being sorry for any of this is absurd. “You can't help what you like, and all in all this isn't any more strange than any other kink you could dream up, really.”

“Well I didn't say I was sorry for liking it,” Roger says, teasingly argumentative in that way he loves to be around Brian. He knows Brian loves it too, the way Roger will playfully brat at him. How long he'll let Roger play at it before he finds some way to put him back in his place is always purely a question of Brian's own mood and patience, but it's a game they both love. “I only said I was sorry I wasn't better at hiding it. Didn't mean to get you involved, you know.”

“What if I wanted to be involved?” Brian asks quietly, and his eyes are so dark as he stares at Roger, who can't help the hitch in his breath at the question. Roger licks his lips, mouth suddenly dry.

“I wouldn't be opposed to that,” Roger says, voice barely above a whisper. Another small spasm hits his bladder then, and his hips shift beneath Brian's arm as he tenses his ass and thighs against the bed sheets. Brian's gaze falls lower, tracking the movement with a sightly raised eyebrow and parted lips. Roger watches Brian watching him and barely manages to hold back a whine.

“Does it hurt?” Brian questions softly, dragging his hand away from Roger's hip to trace his fingertips along the softness of Roger's lower belly. Roger shudders a bit, both at Brian's voice and his touch. And maybe a little bit because he's indulging Roger's weird, secret kink like this; not only without judgment, but actually with some apparent enthusiasm of his own.

“Not a hurt,” Roger explains, feeling breathless already. “More like an ache. It's...warm, and full. I don't know how else to say it.”

Brian hums under his breath, leaning in to kiss Roger's neck while his hand continues to play at Roger's abdomen.

“It feels good though, doesn't it, sweetheart?” Brian asks, pushing his fingers just past the band of Roger's underwear and cupping his stomach so low down that he's nearly brushing Roger's cock. “Holding yourself back, letting it build until you just can't take it anymore.”

Roger nods pathetically, whimpers gathering in his throat as the sensation of needing to pee so badly mixes with those of Brian touching him and talking to him like this.

“Words, darling,” Brian reprimands him, placing his lips to the side of Roger's mouth, too far off the mark to be a proper kiss but close enough that Roger wants to turn his head and chase it until Brian gives in and snogs the life out of him. He doesn't, though, because Brian is waiting on an answer.

“Yeah, feels good, Bri,” he chokes out, looking at Brian from under his lashes. “Always liked how it felt, but it's better with you,” he admits, and Brian's pleased smile at that is as wicked and mischievous as Roger has ever seen it.

“So, when you do this...” Brian starts, and Roger groans out loud because he wants Brian to _do something_ , not just sit here asking him questions. Brian shushes him before he continues. “When you do this, do you ever actually wet yourself?”

Roger feels his face heat up at the question, even though Brian isn't looking at him in any particular way. Brian's expression is open and curious; it's like he'd said, he looks like he's just trying to understand. Roger shakes his head.

“N-no, I-” he stutters, though he doesn't know why he's having such a hard time answering all of a sudden. He clears his throat and tries again, avoiding eye contact with Brian for a moment while he pulls himself together. “No,” he repeats. “I mean, sometimes I...leak, you know. Just a bit. But I've never just let it go entirely before I made it to the toilet.”

Brian nods slightly, looks down at Roger's face thoughtfully before letting his gaze trail down over his body, fingers drumming lightly at the space just above Roger's dick, still trapped inside his shorts.

“Have you considered it?” Brian asks, and suddenly his nails are dragging against Roger's skin, raking just hard enough that Roger's hips arch up from the bed slightly, and he has to clench nearly every muscle in his body to stop himself from losing control of his bladder with the motion.

“Considered what?” Roger asks, breathy, even though he knows exactly what Brian's asking. His head is cloudy and spinning, he can't believe this is happening. Brian laughs, a low, amused chuckle, and the sound of it sends shivers through Roger's body.

“Pissing yourself,” Brian says, like it's the most simple thing in the world. _Maybe it is_ , Roger thinks deliriously. “Soaking your underwear, or those tight jeans you're always parading around in.” Brian hums after that, like he's picturing it; like he's enjoying the idea. Roger feels like he's being slowly set on fire in the best possible way, but he can't find the words to tell Brian that at all. “Have you ever thought about it?” Brian asks, and Roger has to swallow heavily before he can answer, gaze stuck on Brian's face.

“I haven't,” he says quietly, shaking his head. A brief look of what looks very much like disappointment steals over Brian's features, but Roger doesn't give him more time than that before he's looking up at him from under heavy-lidded eyes and murmuring, “But I would if you wanted me to, Bri.”

Brian's eyes widen, pupils blown, and then he's kissing Roger deeply before Roger can even think of anything else at all. Brian kisses him now the same way he does when they're tipsy, just home from the pub after Roger's spent the whole night teasing him and Brian wants to show him who he belongs to. It's the kind of kiss Brian gives him when he's feeling particularly wild, and dominant, and overwhelmed with wanting Roger so badly that he feels like he can't get close enough. Roger knows this kiss better than just about any other feeling in the world, and the fact that Brian's kissing him like this right now, because of this conversation, is so unexpected and unexpectedly _good_ that he never wants it to end.

Brian breaks the kiss and somehow positions himself even closer to Roger's body, now practically leaning over him rather than just lying against his side. His hand slides out from beneath Roger's boxers and he looks down at Roger with an expression of awe mixed with a healthy dose of lust. Roger licks his lips as he gazes back up at Brian, practically holding his breath while he waits for whatever is going to happen next. Brian kisses him on the mouth once more; quicker but no less forceful, and then he leans down and sucks a bruise onto Roger's throat while Roger clings to his back and bares his neck for easier access.

“I wonder if you could last if I fucked you like this,” Brian murmurs after he apparently feels satisfied with the mark he's left behind. He nips along the edge of Roger's jaw as he lets that musing drip from his tongue like honey, and Roger is almost certain he's going to die. “Would you be able to hold it the way you like to?” Brian continues, though he doesn't pause to give Roger the opportunity to actually answer. “I don't think you could, Rog.” Brian brings his mouth right next to Roger's ear, lets him feel the heat of his breath as he murmurs, “I think you'd piss all over yourself, all over me while I'm buried inside you.”

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Brian,” Roger gasps, and he can't help that he lets go just a little bit then, the tiny splash of piss that escapes and visibly wets the front of his boxers before he manages to tense up again and make it stop; hold the floodgates closed for just a little while longer.

Brian notices, of course. He glances down when Roger's hips shift, and sees the small, dark spot staining the light fabric, and when he looks back up at Roger's face, he sort of looks like he wants to eat him alive.

“Can we try it?” Brian asks, and it's the least in-control he's looked this whole time. He clearly wants it, and the fact that he's asking instead of presenting it as a directive and trusting that Roger will safeword if he's not interested says everything Roger needs to know about just how far gone Brian is on the idea.

He nods, and then when Brian prompts him again to use his words, he follows it up with a “yes, yeah, we can do it, Brian, c'mon,” and then breathes very deeply and slowly in the direction of the ceiling while Brian ducks lower down on the bed to peel Roger's damp boxers down and off his body. He tilts his gaze back down to watch Brian strip his own shorts off, and despite how overwhelmed he feels by the whole thing already, his mouth still waters instinctively at the sight of Brian's cock; how hard he is. He watches Brian reach for the lube on the bedside table and pour some onto his hand without preamble. They're both impatient now, the mood effectively shifted to something a little more frantic, and normally Roger would splay his legs open as wide as he could at this point and make a show of inviting Brian in, but he knows that if he does that right now, he's going to piss himself before they even get anywhere close to fucking.

“You'll have to give me at least a little bit of room here, love,” Brian laughs, gesturing between Roger's legs. Roger nods, blowing out an unsteady breath and reaching down to hold his dick in a vice grip while he slowly parts his thighs as far as he feels they can go without putting him in danger. Luckily, Brian is the thinnest person alive, and he doesn't require much room. He fits himself back onto the bed between Roger's legs and reaches down, rubs his fingers around Roger's rim a few times before looking up at him for permission to start.

“Do it, please,” Roger begs, and Brian sinks one long finger into him immediately, making Roger sigh. He's still a bit loose from the previous night, which he's thankful for since it's going to make this go much faster. He's not actually sure how much longer he can hold it, and he really might not have made it if Brian had needed to prep him from nothing. “Won't need too much,” he says, and Brian makes a soft, distracted noise of agreement before slipping a second and third finger inside him in quick succession. Roger gasps at the feeling, eyes sliding closed in pleasure.

Brian fucks him shallowly on his fingers, gently and carefully, enough to stretch him but not enough to set him off. Roger thinks blearily that if it weren't for this newly-incorporated kink aspect and the fact that he can't stop replaying Brian's voice in his head saying _all over me while I'm buried inside you_ , then this would just be another slow, lazy round of the type of morning sex they have fairly regularly, that turns his bones into jelly and leaves him feeling sated for the rest of the day. As it is, knowing what's coming next is only making Roger ache, and after a very short while he gets impatient, groaning and shoving at Brian's shoulder where Brian's settled between his legs.

“That's enough,” he says, watching Brian's dark eyes shoot up to meet his. “Just fuck me, fuck me, Brian, I need it, please, fuck me.” Roger knows he's babbling, knows he's just saying the same thing over and over again, but he can't bring himself to care. Especially not when Brian kisses each of his hipbones and then slides his fingers free, sitting up between Roger's thighs and reaching for the lube one more time to slick his cock. When the head of his dick presses against Roger's hole, Brian drapes himself over Roger's body, putting them face to face as he gets ready to push in.

“Ready, love?” Brian asks, and Roger nods, squeezing his own cock in a tight fist between their bodies. “Let go whenever you need to, Rog,” Brian murmurs, and then he's pushing in, and Roger has never felt anything like it before in his life.

Brian's always been more than adequate in the size department - by anyone's standards, not just Roger's – but like this, with Roger trying his hardest to fight back against the ever-increasing pressure of his bladder and Brian moving deeper and deeper inside him, he feels _huge_ , big enough to take Roger's breath away. It's like he's filling up all the space inside him, filling him until there's no room for anything else, and Roger sees fireworks behind his eyelids as he gasps and tries to ride out the feeling.

“Bri, Brian,” he babbles, grabbing at his dick with both hands now while Brian starts up a steady rhythm. “I don't know how long I can last, you feel fucking _massive_ , I-I'm going to- oh my _god_.”

“Going to what, darling?” Brian asks, voice rumbling through his chest, practically a growl. Roger opens his eyes and sees Brian looking at him, something hungry and almost feral in his desire, and god, he'd never in a million years have thought that this would be where admitting his stupid, weird habits would lead them, but he's so glad for it. “Tell me, what are you going to do, hmm?”

Roger shakes his head frantically, not able to find his voice, not able to bring himself to say it even as he feels how close it is to happening. Luckily Brian picks up the slack for him, lets his mouth run off as filthy as it always does when he gets like this. All Roger has to do is lay there and gasp and moan and writhe underneath him while he carries them both forward, still moving at a slow, thorough pace that makes Roger feel like he could just lie there getting fucked for the rest of eternity.

“You're going to piss yourself, aren't you, Rog?” Brian asks, voice dark and syrupy and with a thread of laughter hiding underneath. Roger moans so loudly he's sure he can be heard down the entire block, and Brian licks his lips as he speeds his hips up just a fraction. “That's right, love. Let it go for me, come on. You can do it, just don't think about it. Move your hands, Roger, come on now, darling. Be good for me and do it.”

Roger shudders and releases his grip on his cock, and as soon as his hands are at his sides Brian is gathering them up, pushing them above his head and holding them down to the mattress as he growls and fucks into him much harder and faster than before. Roger cries out at the change in pace, squirming and practically thrashing underneath Brian, still trying instinctively to keep his muscles tensed and keep it from happening. But between the position Brian has him in and the way he's pounding into him, there's no way for Roger to hold out any longer.

His body gives way to the urge he's been fighting since the second he woke up that morning and he pisses himself, warm wetness flooding between their bodies, splashing against their stomachs and pooling around Roger's abdomen. It streams down his sides and gathers below him, sinking into the sheets on their bed, and he's practically sobbing with relief at how good it feels to let go of it all. Above him, Brian is moaning and gasping out curses, calling Roger a good boy and telling him how pretty he is like this, fucking into him like his life depends on it. Roger basks in the praise and the effect he's having on Brian just by giving in. Brian's orgasm hits him just as Roger's stream slows to a stop, his dick twitching between them, and Roger revels in the feeling of Brian's cum inside him, hot and deep and satisfying in that same just-slightly-gross way that it always is.

Brian lets go of his hold on Roger's wrists and drops his head to Roger's chest, breathing heavily for a beat before he shifts his hips and pulls out. He kisses Roger again after that, thoroughly, licking into Roger's mouth like he means to make a home there. Roger honestly has never loved anyone like this ever before; has never felt this physically good in all his life. When Brian pulls away from the kiss, they spend a few long seconds just staring into each other's eyes, trying to put the pieces back together. Roger is the first to speak, and his voice comes out almost as a croak.

“Thank you,” he says, because it really has to be said. “For not thinking I'm some kind of freak, and for...” he gestures around them, at the soiled bedsheets and their sticky, cooling skin, and where Brian's cum is just beginning to leak out of him. “Well, all of that. It was bloody amazing, so. Thank you.”

“You're amazing,” Brian returns, shaking his head a little, his curls bouncing against his shoulders. A small, almost disbelieving laugh tilts at Brian's lips, and it makes Roger smile in return. “I don't even know what came over me,” Brian says. “One minute I was just wanting to know what was going on so that I could try and support you, and the next...well.” Brian laughs again, and now he's the one blushing, a pink tinge just starting to creep into his cheeks. Roger puts a hand on his face, thumbing over where his skin has gone warm and red, smiling.

“Eh, so you gave into my kink. It's not the worst thing that could have happened. In fact, I'd say it's a good thing, wouldn't you?”

“Definitely,” Brian says, eyes sparkling. He turns his face to kiss Roger's palm before hauling himself off the bed, standing at the foot and raking his eyes over Roger's body. After he looks his fill – Roger not missing the way Brian's gaze turns dark and hazy again for just a moment – he reaches out a hand to help Roger up as well. They stand there together, Roger wrapped up in Brian's arms, looking down at the mess they've made of the bed.

“Suppose we'll have to clean that,” Roger sighs, not looking forward to the chore. Brian kisses him on the top of the head, maneuvering them around so that he's pushing Roger towards the bedroom door.

“You go get a shower started,” Brian orders. “I'll strip all that and get it in the wash, and spray something on the mattress so it doesn't stain.”

“And then you'll join me in the shower, right?” Roger asks hopefully, trying and failing not to glance down at where his dick has started to show some interest in getting hard now that he's technically had his morning bathroom break. Brian follows his gaze and laughs brightly as he leans in to peck Roger on the lips, giving him a slap on the bum as he pulls away. The sudden sting makes Roger yelp, but it also makes his cock perk up even more, and Brian smirks knowingly.

“I will join you in the shower, yes,” Brian assures him, turning towards the bed and starting to pull the covers away. “Now go,” Brian says pointedly, gesturing towards the door. Roger obeys.

“Next you'll be wanting me to piss on _you_ instead,” Brian calls out once Roger has made it to the hallway. He's laughing as he says it, clearly teasing. To Roger's burgeoning erection, though, it doesn't sound like a bad idea at all. In fact, he thinks, forcing himself to get out an even half-convincing chuckle in response as he makes his way towards the bathroom, it sounds possibly even hotter than what they've just done.

_Here we go again_ , Roger thinks, rolling his eyes a little in exasperation at himself for the response his body is having to Brian's joke. But then, thinking over how well the morning had gone, he's not sure that Brian wasn't more serious than he was letting on. _One way to find out_ , Roger tells himself, hearing Brian enter the bathroom as he stands under the spray. Roger drops to his knees as soon as Brian climbs into the shower, biting his lip and looking up at him while the water streams down around them, running in rivulets around Roger's now straining erection.

“Can we try it?” Roger asks, looking up at Brian's stunned expression, intentionally echoing Brian's words from earlier. Brian takes his cock in hand, eyes darkening again as he aims for Roger's chest. Roger has never, ever been happier for his strange habits than he is right then.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me talking about Queen at somethingsoinviting.tumblr.com but please don't throw rocks at me because of how disgusting this fic was.


End file.
